Page 84 of Dear Roomie
He presses his thumb to the back of my hand, giving me a wistful smile before he pulls his hand out of my grasp and places it on his knee.
“That’s good. I’m proud of you, James.”
That’s it? Does he not realize what this means?
“Don’t you see? We can be together now like we talked about before.” I reach for his hand again, but he moves it away. It’s a fluid movement, subtle even, but it’s clear he’s avoiding my touch.
“No we can’t,” he says, dropping his eyes to look at anything but me.
His rejection is a physical blow to my chest, and my paper heart crumples from the force of it.
“W-what do you mean we can’t? Of course we can. Tanner isn’t an issue. It will be just like we talked about. I’m so sorry it took me this long to figure it out. I should have ended things with Tanner at the beach, but I was a coward. I fucked everything up and kept making the wrong choices, but I’m making the right choice now. We can finally be together. There isn’t anything holding us back anymore.” My voice takes on a hysterical edge that only grows with each uttered phrase.
“I know.” His lashes flutter as they fall shut, and a look of absolute anguish mars his beautiful face. His chest heaves as he fights for composure, and when he opens his eyes again, they’re steeled. “I’m what’s holding us back. I can’t—won’t—do this with you, not now.”
“Why not?” A hot lump forms in my throat.
How can he be doing this to us?
“I don’t want to be your rebound.”
Myrebound?
I’d laugh if my world wasn’t crashing down around me. There is no universe where what this man means to me could be reduced to that. Does he really think so little of what’s between us? Does he not realize how much I love him?
“You wouldn’t be,” I tell him, but those three words are different from the ones threatening to bubble up and spill out of me. I’m not ready to say them yet, not when he still might leave me after.
“Yes I would. You’ve barely been single for a day. Jumping from one relationship into the next isn’t what you need.”
“What I need is you.” My hands reach out for him again without conscious thought, drawn in by whatever spell it is he has me under.
“No it isn’t.” He moves before my fingers make contact, jerking away and running his hand through the tangled mess of curls to keep it out of my yearning grasp. “What you need is time to process everything that’s happened and heal from it.”
“But—”
“No buts. If I give in now, there’ll always be a nagging doubt in the back of my head that you are only with me because I was a safe place to land, not because you wanted to be withme. I’m not saying no forever, but right now, this can’t happen.”
All of yesterday and this morning passed by without me shedding a single tear, but this is my breaking point. My breath hitches as I’m overcome with a heaving sob, and hot tears spill over my lashes. He places a hand on the side of my face, cradling it in his palm, and wipes the falling tears from my cheek with his thumb. A glassy sheen covers his hazel orbs, making them look like liquid amber under the warm glow of the overhead light.
I didn’t think the dingy bulb had the ability to cast this sort of illumination, to make someone glow, but the golden hues reflect off Morgan’s tortured features, creating the perfect balance of darkness and light, painting him as the paragon of righteous self-sacrifice. My fingers itch to immortalize the image on canvas:The End of a Good Knight.
He drops his head toward mine, and the gleam is eclipsed in shadow. For a moment, I think he might kiss me—no, I’m certain of it. His eyes are locked on mine as his lips descend. Even through my tears, my heart swells in anticipation. That bubble of hope in my chest bursts as his lips stop short, and he presses his forehead against mine, shifting his hand to rest in my hair.
“Don’t cry, pretty girl,” he pleads. “You’re breaking my heart.”
“Well, you’re breaking mine,” I accuse.
“I know.” His expression shifts, pinching in pain, and he lets out a deep sigh. “I’m so sorry, James.”
We stay locked like that, breathing each other in, until my tears run dry. The moment passes by, feeling like a millisecond and an eternity all wrapped up as one.
The brush of his warm lips on my forehead as he pulls away simultaneously sends electric currents racing through my body and pierces through my already mangled heart. He leaves me there, alone on the couch, but this time, for some reason, it doesn’t feel like he’s running away, at least not forever. It’s a tactical retreat, one so we can regroup and come back together stronger.
He pauses in the doorway and turns back to face me, opening his mouth as if to speak before closing it again with a small shake of his head, and he slips into the darkened hallway.
I just need to give him time. I can do that. As much as I hate it, I think he might be right. My heart needs room to breathe so that all this pain that’s been festering doesn’t grow stale and stagnant in my chest, poisoning it and leaving it uninhabitable for the love that wants to grow there. For him, I can be patient.
Chapter 33
